Tactical Crotch Errors

"I Recall..... Central Park In Fall..... How You Tore Your Crotch! You Let Me Watch! Called Me Beeyotch!"

Didja ever have one of those days where you're stuck in your office chair hammering away on an Excel file for hours at a time, and your trouser fabric and the chair upholstery are completely incompatible, so you slide around a bit every time you move?

In the course of all the readjusting and weight-shifting in an attempt to recenter your keister on the chair, your elastic legband of your skivvies (unbeknownst to you...) is slowly becoming tangled with portions of Ye Olde Balzac, until you finally stand up and bounce up and down a few times to get things settled properly.

While you're standing, you decide to go ahead and offload the 32 oz of diet soda currently percolating through your kidneys, so you walk like Marty Feldman's Igor (That's Eye-Gore!) to the can, dragging a leg in a futile attempt to undo that last underwear/scrotal entanglement...

Upon reaching the can, you drop trou, and in an attempt to get things settled once and for all, you grab the waistband of your skivvies and yank 'em down. (AoM, you oughta quit reading now...)

In the process, you might hear a tearing sound. For a few precious seconds, you might just assume you've torn the fabric of your undies.

In reality, however, there's a pretty good chance that what you've done is to perform a large-scale removal of pubic hair from 3 or 4 square inches of crotch, due to the remarkable clingy properties of elastic legbands and unshorn pubes.

Y'know, this stings like a mofo. Like a spoonful of fire ants tucked up by the starboard gonad. I really ought to look into one of those Brazilian wax jobs if I'm gonna keep wearing the tighty-whities...